MY BURIED TREASURE(我的地下宝藏)

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MY BURIED TREASURE

MY BURIED

TREASURE

by Richard Harding Davis

MY BURIED TREASURE

This is a true story of a search for buried treasure. The only part that is

not true is the name of the man with whom I searched for the treasure.

Unless I keep his name out of it he will not let me write the story, and, as it

was his expedition and as my share of the treasure is only what I can make

by writing the story, I must write as he dictates. I think the story should be

told, because our experience was unique, and might be of benefit to others.

And, besides, I need the money.

There is, however, no agreement preventing me from describing him

as I think he is, or reporting, as accurately as I can, what he said and did as

he said and did it.

For purposes of identification I shall call him Edgar Powell. The last

name has no significance; but the first name is not chosen at random. The

leader of our expedition, the head and brains of it, was and is the sort of

man one would address as Edgar. No one would think of calling him "Ed,"

or "Eddie," any more than he would consider slapping him on the back.

We were together at college; but, as six hundred other boys were there

at the same time, that gives no clew to his identity. Since those days, until

he came to see me about the treasure, we had not met. All I knew of him

was that he had succeeded his father in manufacturing unshrinkable

flannels. Of course, the reader understands that is not the article of

commerce he manufactures; but it is near enough, and it suggests the line

of business to which he gives his life's blood. It is not similar to my own

line of work, and in consequence, when he wrote me, on the unshrinkable

flannels official writing-paper, that he wished to see me in reference to a

matter of business of "mutual benefit," I was considerably puzzled.

A few days later, at nine in the morning, an hour of his own choosing,

he came to my rooms in New York City.

Except that he had grown a beard, he was as I remembered him, thin

and tall, but with no chest, and stooping shoulders. He wore eye-glasses,

and as of old through these he regarded you disapprovingly and warily as

though he suspected you might try to borrow money, or even joke with

MY BURIED TREASURE

him. As with Edgar I had never felt any temptation to do either, this was

irritating.

But from force of former habit we greeted each other by our first

names, and he suspiciously accepted a cigar. Then, after fixing me both

with his eyes and with his eye-glasses and swearing me to secrecy, he

began abruptly.

"Our mills," he said, "are in New Bedford; and I own several small

cottages there and in Fairhaven. I rent them out at a moderate rate. The

other day one of my tenants, a Portuguese sailor, was taken suddenly ill

and sent for me. He had made many voyages in and out of Bedford to the

South Seas, whaling, and he told me on his last voyage he had touched at

his former home at Teneriffe. There his grandfather had given him a

document that had been left him by his father. His grandfather said it

contained an important secret, but one that was of value only in America,

and that when he returned to that continent he must be very careful to

whom he showed it. He told me it was written in a kind of English he

could not understand, and that he had been afraid to let any one see it. He

wanted me to accept the document in payment of the rent he owed me,

with the understanding that I was not to look at it, and that if he got well I

was to give it back. If he pulled through, he was to pay me in some other

way; but if he died I was to keep the document. About a month ago he

died, and I examined the paper. It purports to tell where there is buried a

pirate's treasure. And," added Edgar, gazing at me severely and as though

he challenged me to contradict him, I intend to dig for it!"

Had he told me he contemplated crossing the Rocky Mountains in a

Baby Wright, or leading a cotillon, I could not have been more astonished.

I am afraid I laughed aloud.

"You!" I exclaimed. "Search for buried treasure?"

My tone visibly annoyed him. Even the eye-glasses radiated

disapproval.

"I see nothing amusing in the idea," Edgar protested coldly. "It is a

plain business proposition. I find the outlay will be small, and if I am

successful the returns should be large; at a rough estimate about one

MY BURIED TREASURE

million dollars."

Even to-day, no true American, at the thought of one million dollars,

can remain covered. His letter to me had said, "for our mutual benefit." I

became respectful and polite, I might even say abject. After all, the ties

that bind us in those dear old college days are not lightly to be

disregarded.

"If I can be of any service to you, Edgar, old man," I assured him

heartily, "if I can help you find it, you know I shall be only too happy."

With regret I observed that my generous offer did not seem to deeply

move him.

"I came to you in this matter," he continued stiffly, "because you

seemed to be the sort of person who would be interested in a search for

buried treasure."

"I am," I exclaimed. "Always have been."

"Have you," he demanded searchingly, "any practical experience?"

I tried to appear at ease; but I knew then just how the man who applies

to look after your furnace feels, when you ask him if he can also run a

sixty horse-power dynamo.

"I have never actually FOUND any buried treasure," I admitted; "but I

know where lots of it is, and I know just how to go after it." I endeavored

to dazzle him with expert knowledge.

"Of course," I went on airily, "I am familiar with all the expeditions

that have tried for the one on Cocos Island, and I know all about the

Peruvian treasure on Trinidad, and the lost treasures of Jalisco near

Guadalajara, and the sunken galleon on the Grand Cayman, and when I

was on the Isle of Pines I had several very tempting offers to search there.

And the late Captain Boynton invited me----"

"But," interrupted Edgar in a tone that would tolerate no trifling, "you

yourself have never financed or organized an expedition with the object in

view of----"

"Oh, that part's easy!" I assured him. "The fitting-out part you can

safely leave to me." I assumed a confidence that I hoped he might believe

was real. "There's always a tramp steamer in the Erie Basin," I said, "that

MY BURIED TREASURE

one can charter for any kind of adventure, and I have the addresses of

enough soldiers of fortune, filibusters, and professional revolutionists to

man a battle-ship, all fine fellows in a tight corner. And I'll promise you

they'll follow us to hell, and back----"

"That!" exclaimed Edgar, "is exactly what I feared! "

"I beg your pardon!" I exclaimed.

"That's exactly what I DON'T want," said Edgar sternly. "I don't

INTEND to get into any tight corners. I don't WANT to go to hell!"

I saw that in my enthusiasm I had perhaps alarmed him. I continued

more temperately.

"Any expedition after treasure," I pointed out, "is never without risk.

You must have discipline, and you must have picked men. Suppose there's

a mutiny? Suppose they try to rob us of the treasure on our way home? We

must have men we can rely on, and men who know how to pump a

Winchester. I can get you both. And Bannerman will furnish me with

anything from a pair of leggins to a quick firing gun, and on Clark Street

they'll quote me a special rate on ship stores, hydraulic pumps, divers'

helmets----"

Edgar's eye-glasses became frosted with cold, condemnatory scorn. He

shook his head disgustedly.

"I was afraid of this!" he murmured.

I endeavored to reassure him.

"A little danger," I laughed, "only adds to the fun."

"I want you to understand," exclaimed Edgar indignantly, "there isn't

going to be any danger. There isn't going to be any fun. This is a plain

business proposition. I asked you those questions just to test you. And you

approached the matter exactly as I feared you would. I was prepared for it.

In fact," he explained shamefacedly, "I've read several of your little stories,

and I find they run to adventure and blood and thunder; they are not of the

analytical school of fiction. Judging from them," he added accusingly,

"you have a tendency to the romantic." He spoke reluctantly as though

saying I had a tendency to epileptic fits or the morphine habit.

"I am afraid," I was forced to admit, "that to me pirates and buried

MY BURIED TREASURE

treasure always suggest adventure. And your criticism of my writings is

well observed. Others have discovered the same fatal weakness. We

cannot all," I pointed out, "manufacture unshrinkable flannels."

At this compliment to his more fortunate condition, Edgar seemed to

soften.

"I grant you," he said, "that the subject has almost invariably been

approached from the point of view you take. And what," he demanded

triumphantly, "has been the result? Failure, or at least, before success was

attained, a most unnecessary and regrettable loss of blood and life. Now,

on my expedition, I do not intend that any blood shall be shed, or that

anybody shall lose his life. I have not entered into this matter hastily. I

have taken out information, and mean to benefit by other people's

mistakes. When I decided to go on with this," he explained, "I read all the

books that bear on searches for buried treasure, and I found that in each

case the same mistakes were made, and that then, in order to remedy the

mistakes, it was invariably necessary to kill somebody. Now, by not

making those mistakes, it will not be necessary for me to kill any one, and

nobody is going to have a chance to kill me.

"You propose that we fit out a schooner and sign on a crew. What will

happen? A man with a sabre cut across his forehead, or with a black patch

over one eye, will inevitably be one of that crew. And, as soon as we sail,

he will at once begin to plot against us. A cabin boy who the conspirators

think is asleep in his bunk will overhear their plot and will run to the

quarter-deck to give warning; but a pistol shot rings out, and the cabin boy

falls at the foot of the companion ladder. The cabin boy is always the first

one to go. After that the mutineers kill the first mate, and lock us in our

cabin, and take over the ship. They will then broach a cask of rum, and all

through the night we will listen to their drunken howlings, and from the

cabin airport watch the body of the first mate rolling in the lee scuppers."

"But you forget," I protested eagerly, "there is always ONE faithful

member of the crew, who----"

Edgar interrupted me impatiently.

"I have not overlooked him," he said. "He is a Jamaica negro of

MY BURIED TREASURE

gigantic proportions, or the ship's cook; but he always gets his too, and he

gets it good. They throw HIM to the sharks! Then we all camp out on a

desert island inhabited only by goats, and we build a stockade, and the

mutineers come to treat with us under a white flag, and we, trusting

entirely to their honor, are fools enough to go out and talk with them. At

which they shoot us up, and withdraw laughing scornfully." Edgar fixed

his eye-glasses upon me accusingly.

"Am I right, or am I wrong?" he demanded. I was unable to answer.

"The only man," continued Edgar warmly who ever showed the slightest

intelligence in the matter was the fellow in the 'Gold Bug. HE kept his

mouth shut. He never let any one know that he was after buried treasure,

until he found it. That's me! Now I know EXACTLY where this treasure is,

and----"

I suppose, involuntarily, I must have given a start of interest; for Edgar

paused and shook his head, slyly and cunningly. "And if you think I have

the map on my person now," he declared in triumph, "you'll have to guess

again!"

"Really," I protested, "I had no intention----"

"Not you, perhaps," said Edgar grudgingly; "but your Japanese valet

conceals himself behind those curtains, follows me home, and at night----"

"I haven't got a valet," I objected.

Edgar merely smiled with the most aggravating self- sufficiency. "It

makes no difference," he declared. "NO ONE will ever find that map, or

see that map, or know where that treasure is, until I point to the spot."

"Your caution is admirable," I said; "but what," I jeered, "makes you

think you can point to the spot, because your map says something like,

'Through the Sunken Valley to Witch's Caldron, four points N. by N. E. to

Gallows Hill where the shadow falls at sunrise, fifty fathoms west, fifty

paces north as the crow flies, to the Seven Wells'? How the deuce," I

demanded, "is any one going to point to that spot?"

"It isn't that kind of map," shouted Edgar triumphantly. " If it had been,

I wouldn't have gone on with it. It's a map anybody can read except a half-

caste Portuguese sailor. It's as plain as a laundry bill. It says," he paused

MY BURIED TREASURE

apprehensively, and then continued with caution, "it says at such and such

a place there is a something. So many somethings from that something are

three what-you-may-call- 'ems, and in the centre of these three what-you-

may-call-'ems is buried the treasure. It's as plain as that!"

"Even with the few details you have let escape you," I said, "I could

find THAT spot in my sleep."

"I don't think you could," said Edgar uncomfortably; but I could see

that he had mentally warned himself to be less communicative. "And," he

went on, "I am willing to lead you to it, if you subscribe to certain

conditions."

Edgar's insulting caution had ruffled my spirit.

"Why do you think you can trust ME?" I asked haughtily. And then,

remembering my share of the million dollars, I added in haste, "I accept

the conditions."

"Of course, as you say, one has got to take SOME risk," Edgar

continued; "but I feel sure," he said, regarding me doubtfully, "you would

not stoop to open robbery." I thanked him.

"Well, until one is tempted," said Edgar, "one never knows WHAT he

might do. And I've simply GOT to have one other man, and I picked on

you because I thought you could write about it."

"I see," I said, "I am to act as the historian of the expedition."

"That will be arranged later," said Edgar. "What I chiefly want you for

is to dig. Can you dig?" he asked eagerly. I told him I could; but that I

would rather do almost anything else.

"I MUST have one other man," repeated Edgar, "a man who is strong

enough to dig, and strong enough to resist the temptation to murder me."

The retort was so easy that I let it pass. Besides, on Edgar, it would have

been wasted.

"I THINK you will do," he said with reluctance. "And now the

conditions!"

I smiled agreeably.

"You are already sworn to secrecy," said Edgar. "And you now agree

in every detail to obey me implicitly, and to accompany me to a certain

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MYBURIEDTREASUREMYBURIEDTREASUREbyRichardHardingDavisMYBURIEDTREASUREThisisatruestoryofasearchforburiedtreasure.TheonlypartthatisnottrueisthenameofthemanwithwhomIsearchedforthetreasure.UnlessIkeephisnameoutofithewillnotletmewritethestory,and,asitwashisexpeditionandasmyshareofthetreasureisonlywhatIca...

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